


Lost Without You

by PuddingTown



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Car Accidents, Divorce, Heavy Angst, M/M, Sad shit y'all idk how we thought this would go any differently, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:36:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddingTown/pseuds/PuddingTown
Summary: Inspired by a "Waking Up With Amnesia AU" prompt. Eddie Kaspbrak loses his memory after being in a car wreck, and Richie is left to pick up the pieces of their broken relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

_“I love you, Sugarbear,” Richie said, smiling from ear to ear._

That was the last thing he said to Eddie Kaspbrak as he knew him.

At least he made his final words count.

Richie did nothing but pace in the hospital those first few weeks after the accident. Nothing could tear him away except for his own physical therapy. His leg was healed and he was walking again before his husband woke up.

_“Baby? Baby, are you okay? How are you feeling?”  
_

_Eddie blinked several times, clearly thrown by Richie._

_“I’m feeling… okay,” he said, “But who are you?”_

Doctors told him it was traumatic brain injury. It could go either way; Eddie could get himself back or he could live out the rest of his life just having to start anew. Richie didn’t think it would be too difficult; he would roll with the punches. For better or for worse, right?

_“Are you sure it’s no trouble?”  
_

_“Eddie, honey, we’re married,” Richie reminded him as he helped Eddie into the house. It stung to see Eddie’s face twist in confusion, but he pushed that away. Instead, he focused on winning his husband over again. “Do you like the house? We picked out all the designs together.”  
_

_Eddie frowned seeing the tile, “I think I would’ve gone with a… not beige.” He laughed a little nervously. Apologetic, even._

_Richie tried to smile through his confusion. Eddie picked the tile originally._

The weeks passed and Richie showed Eddie all their photos and home video. He came home from work one day to find Eddie watching their amateur porn, not reacting in the slightest. As strong as he tried to be, that stung the most.

After that, he tried harder to make himself attractive to Eddie.

It tore him apart when it turned out to be in vain.

_“I’m just… not interested in you, Richie,” he said sadly, although his sadness was detached.  
_

_Richie sat a the dinner table with an untouched glass of wine in front of him._

_**Please call me Richard,** he thought desperately._

When Richie came home from work to find Eddie’s suitcases in he foyer, and a cab waiting outside, he didn’t feel much surprise. He slept on the couch for months, attempting to win back he love of his life, who just… wasn’t interested. Richie didn’t say a word as Eddie took off his wedding ring and set it on he table.

 _“I’m sorry, Richie-”_  
_“Richard. Call me Richard, just… once, please,” he begged._

_Eddie’s head tilted, but he obliged, “I’m sorry, Richard.”_

_The vacant look in Eddie’s eyes tore Richie apart, because it was the final nail in the coffin. He didn’t remember. He never would._

_“The key’s under the cactus plant, if you ever wanna come back,” he offered, holding back the urge to scream. Eddie nodded and passed him.  
_

_Richie took the wine bottle from the fridge, drinking straight from it as he stood on the porch, watching Eddie drive further and further away._

Six months later, the divorce papers came.

Richie was almost too drunk to realize the package wasn’t junk mail. He almost drank himself to death that night. Word on the street was Eddie met someone new. A little stalking on Facebook told Richie it was a man named Adam. He was a politician with a muscled body and blonde hair, the exact opposite of Richie. After all these years, he supposed it was good for Eddie to wind up with someone he actually wanted.

Another five months later, he heard from Beverly that Eddie was getting married. Richie still resided in their house; it was paid off thanks to his royalties. Everything was taken care of for him, except his own well-being. The most he did was water Eddie’s garden; he wanted it to remain healthy in case Eddie came back.

Beverly said Eddie wanted to know if Richie wanted an invitation.

In all honesty, he wanted to know too.

Watch the love of his life get away? Or fight tooth and nail to get him back?

Instead of texting Beverly back, he opened another bottle of wine to numb the overwhelming agony seeping into his chest. No matter what he did, he didn’t want to see that vacant look in Eddie’s eyes.

Maybe he’d get lucky and damage his brain enough so _he_ would wake up with amnesia.


	2. Chapter 2

_Richie swayed in the hallway, catching sight of himself in the mirror. At the end of this long tunnel, he stood in nothing but sweats and a bathrobe, his hair a greasy mess. He couldn’t recall the last time he showered, but the only smell in the house was the sharp stench of alcohol. Gripping the neck of the whiskey bottle, he scowled and threw it as hard as he could muster. The glass shattered, missing the mirror by a foot or so._

_Collapsing in the middle of his living room, Richie stared at the walls boxing him in. Counting the cracks from every hole he punched, he saw a half-empty bottle of vodka on the mantle. Littered around him, there were various other drinks. In order to move, he practically had to swim along his floor, the clinking of glass echoing like wind chimes. The only reason he could still see the carpet was because he emptied each bottle until they were translucent._

_Ignoring the stack of papers on the coffee table, stained with red wine, he reached for the vodka. He almost had the foresight to call someone to deliver more booze, instead of waiting until he was agonizingly sober, but the need to drink was too great. It demanded to be felt._

* * *

Eddie spent the past three months of his engagement wondering why he was getting married again. Of course, he cared about his fiance. Adam lived up to every expectation he held for the man of his dreams. Beautiful. Successful. Mature. Responsible.

They found an apartment and decorated together.

Adam cooked excellently, although he did tend to forget Eddie’s allergies.

_That’s what changed,_ Eddie thought, chewing on his lip. He had been fine until that night. Adam made spaghetti, but he added shrimp. Eddie reminded him, while he loved Italian food, he also loved not dying from a shellfish allergy. They laughed the misstep off, but Eddie kept thinking of...

Not the dinner, but the _word_. Spaghetti. It rhymed with his name.

For a moment, he thought he was high. The thought was so stupid, but he couldn’t help but think-

_Richie wouldn’t forget my allergies._

Panicked, Eddie visited his doctor shortly after the thoughts began buzzing. He was good about keeping them quiet, locked in the darkest corners of his mind, but they were growing louder. Stronger.

His doctor called it “spontaneous recovery.” According to Dr. Saunders, it was a phenomenon, and something his ex-husband desperately waited for when they were still married. Upon hearing those words, Eddie’s head filled with a plume of thoughts.

He focused on the easiest: Richie never returned the divorce papers.

Eddie tried looking him up, but when he stumbled upon his Facebook, he spent an hour sitting in his car and looking through their old photos. A familiar ache squeezed in his chest, urging him to go home. He tried, but he was mistaken returning to his apartment with Adam.

Three months and counting, Eddie tried to figure out his next step. With each passing day, calling off the wedding became harder. He wasn’t in love with the man in his bed, and he couldn’t stop searching the depths of Facebook for a man he’d so cruelly left. Eddie hardly remembered leaving him, but when he did manage to conjure up the blurry months after the car accident, he didn’t recall himself in the sweetest light.

Richie Tozier tried everything to win him back. Eddie saw the fear of inadequacy in his eyes, but he didn’t recognize it then. All Richie wanted was to make him happy.

Countless times, Eddie covered his mouth to keep from waking Adam with his strangled sobs. He didn’t know how to call Richie again. At this point, he wouldn’t have blamed Richie for never forgiving him.

But three months, two weeks, and four days led him to a choice.

Eddie packed his car, leaving while Adam was at work. Maybe it was cowardly, but Eddie couldn’t bring himself to stay, or explain why he couldn’t. He wanted to go _home_.

When he arrived at the old house - requiring no map, and recognizing all the landmarks on the way - Eddie hesitated on the lawn. His garden was beginning to overgrow. For almost a year passing since he left, he was pleasantly surprised. Richie tried to keep up with what belonged to him. Perhaps there was still a chance to fix things. Nervously taking the steps one by one, he knelt down to take the key from under the cactus plant.

Maybe he could rip the divorce papers to shreds, if Richie would allow him.

Hell, they could do it together.

Unlocking the door, swinging open the heavy oak, Eddie was hit with the pungent reek of booze. Something else crept into his nostrils, masked by the whiskey. It was sour like rotten eggs, and poisonous like moth balls.

Pinching his nose, Eddie gagged as he stepped in. The light was on in the kitchen, which wouldn’t have been necessary if only the windows were open. At the end of the hall, just outside their bedroom, shattered glass was spread across the floor. He wanted to inspect, but his foot hit a semi-heavy object. Frowning, he glanced down and saw a trail of wine bottles. Except... it wasn’t limited to wine. Tequila. Brandy. Rum.

If it was an alcohol, Richie had been drinking it.

Eddie followed the trail, freezing as he came around the couch.

Lying on the floor, Richie didn’t move.

Not even to breathe.

“Oh God,” Eddie whispered, his throat tightening as he panicked and stumbled back. He hit the wall, but it only seemed to rebound him to his former spot. Further, even - he rushed to Richie’s side, yanking his hands away when they touched his cold face. “Oh- oh no- oh, God, Richie- Richard, please-” Eddie’s hand flew to his mouth. He couldn’t think about the smell, or the filth, or even the lack of light.

He could see Richie’s pale skin perfectly, and he didn’t want to. Not like this.

“Richie, no- no, oh _God_ , wake up, baby! Come on- it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here,” Eddie repeated, stammering through his words. His tone went from urgent, to soft, and then he was screaming.

He didn’t know how long he was screaming either, but it was long enough for a neighbor to call the police. Red and blue lights flashed through the thinly cracked blinds, but Eddie didn’t let go of Richie’s rigid body.

* * *

_Reaching for his phone, Richie contemplated calling Eddie’s dead number again. No matter how many times he tried, and how much he hoped, he was always let down when it wasn’t reactivated. Eddie changed it about a month after he walked out; whether it was to move on, or to avoid Richie’s miserable (and admittedly shameless) texts, he couldn’t say for certain._

_When he left voicemails, they went nowhere. The call disconnected, and his words faded into the air around him._

_“You know Eds... I’ve been listening to your old mixtapes, and a lot of these songs-” Richie stopped, hiccuping in the middle of his speech. “I miss you. I forgot what I wanted to say, but you forgot me, so we’re even...” He began to set the phone down, but swiftly lifted it back to his mouth. “I just wanna see you. I know you- you moved on. It’s a fresh start for you, but I can’t- that’s not me. I don’t...”_

_Staring around the living room, Richie sighed. He reached for the wine, sliding off the couch as he did so. His cheek against the rough carpet, he tried to sip from the bottle, spilling liquid on his phone. Eddie didn’t need to see him like this. His vision was blurring, and his mouth remained dry, even after he managed to tip wine through his lips._

_“I wish you... all the happiness, with your new life. I wish you would come home. I wish you remembered me,” Richie whispered, rolling over. “I wish this wasn’t the end, baby.” He tried to drink, choking on the wine as he did. When he gasped and caught his breath, he started laughing._

_Eddie used to tell him that endings were just new beginnings._

_But this just felt like the ending._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was requested so, for all intents and purposes, it's not my fault.


End file.
